Lost
by Floating On A Thought
Summary: She was so lost. Being forced to marry a man she barely knew had taken its toll, and her mind could hardly cope. How can she find herself in this sea of confusion and uncertainty? How can she regain her life and happiness?


The rain poured down outside, thundering against the hard ground that attempted and failed to soak it all up. The scent of the rain penetrated the thin, paper walls of the house and filled the rooms with the fresh smell of nature.

The inhabitants of the house, however, were not in any sort of situation to pay attention to such a normal spectacle, as they had far more important work to be done. In the very centre of the house – a rather large one – was a covered courtyard. Within this, preparations were being made, and people dressed in extremely formal wear were being ushered to open seats, while the hosts ran about making sure there were enough refreshments, check if the seats and the guests were in the correct place, and also changing into their own suitable attire. The courtyard was filled with sweet smelling flowers native to the time of year; pinks, purples and most prominently reds coloured the usually green and grey area.

At the top of the courtyard was a small shrine decorated in elaborate sealing symbols with ivy and honeysuckle draped over it, adding to the already excited atmosphere. There was chatting and gossiping everywhere, and as the seats began to get filled up, it became apparent just how many people there would be there. Well over one hundred.

The noise became louder and louder, but still the front bench on either side of the laid out seats remained empty.

**XxXxXxX**

The shoji slid open gently as a well manicured, slender hand curled its fingers around the edge and pulled. The door made a soft sound as it opened, and the sound of rain within the room became much louder. A single figure stood just inside, gazing out into the wild weather. The water ran off the edge of the porch, and made a steady dripping noise that did nothing to move the figure. There was no one outside, as everyone was within the house or already in the courtyard. If the figure strained their eyes, they could see – through the hailing water – another house, all the doors shut, no light in through the paper. It was empty. As was all the other houses dotted within a half-mile radius. Everyone had gathered here to witness the event that was to take place in just under an hour.

The figure sighed wistfully, and Mito turned her head away from the ever pouring rain to face her room. It had been hectic the past couple of days, what with all the provisions that had to be procured, the material needed, the helpers hired. It had been a miracle she had had time to sleep let alone simply sit in peace like this on her own. She savoured the small amount of calm she would get before this thing started. She needed this time to come to terms with what was happening, because she had not had time to yet. In just under two weeks, she had lost her position as clan heiress due to this and had been told she was to marry a man over three years older than her. It was… overwhelming. She wasn't even sure if her mind – let alone her heart – had registered the events.

Her life had been a very nice one, if violent. She had grown up with a mother who had loved her, a father who had adored her, and a younger brother who had thought the world spun because she said so. But that treasured structure of her family had come crashing down. Her mother had died two years ago, but she had thought she had dealt with that. She had cried for weeks, but had understood that at least the loved woman was no longer in pain. Her brother had gone on a training trip for a year, and had not come back. His body had come back, all right, but the teenager who was in her brother's place no longer had time for his older sister. In fact, he barely saw her at all, and made no attempt to make time. It had hurt at the time, and still did if she thought about it too much, but with the help her best friend Mika gave her, she had gotten over the rejection of her brother. But her father… she was devastated. She remembered during peace talks when she was a child her mother had demanded, right in front of everyone, that her daughter not be put in an arranged marriage. Her father had _sworn_, her had _sworn _to her mother he would not subject Mito to the usual custom of marrying off any daughters. And he had lied. Her father had only told her of the engagement two weeks before the marriage was to take place. She felt so utterly alone. The one family member she felt she had left, the one she could trust, the one she called father, had sold her off and abandoned her.

And it hurt.

She understood a stronger alliance was needed for the newly built village in the Land of Fire to survive its first rocky couple of years, but was a marriage alliance really needed? So felt so… used, like a simple pawn to be disposed of when necessary. She no longer felt like the princess she was. Anyway, after this, she would no longer be Princess of the Uzumaki clan. She would be _ex_-princess, and Lady of the Senju. It didn't sit right. She was an Uzumaki, born and bred, and she didn't feel as if she could move so far from her ancestral home and the sea. This was her life, fierce but gentle, a child of the sea, wild and free, Mito _Uzumaki_. She could not be the soft, kind, meek and obedient Mito Senju that everyone wanted her to be. She was not that woman, and she didn't think she ever would be. It would suffocate her, she would become like a fish out of water, slowly and painfully withering away until nothing was left but an empty husk.

But that was not what angered her. What angered her was the fact he was so damn nice! He was chivalrous, polite, had a sense of humour, had tried to become friends with her, and he wasn't bad on the eyes. Not to mention his power. He could easily be as strong as her father, and that was saying something. She would have had an easier time hating this arrangement if he had been everything a ninja personified. Hatred, violence, anger. But he was not. She felt so… mollified by his acceptance of the situation. Clearly, he had known of the intention to engage them both before she was told, but he had accepted it as his duty, and that was that.

But Mito… Mito couldn't just accept it. She hadn't wanted to be married so soon. She hadn't wanted to be married just before she turned into an adult in the eyes of the clan, when she was just about to begin her clan head training. She wasn't sixteen yet! And yet her life had already been decided, she was to be one of many women whose happiness was sacrificed for the 'good' of the clans. She hadn't wanted to be a woman whose only worries in life were to obey her husband and provide him with an heir. But the crux of the matter, she had wanted to marry for love.

She had wanted to come home to a husband every night who loved her, who kissed her goodnight as she tucked in their children. She had wanted to be a battle medic who could hold their own, while being the sealing mistress she was. She wanted someone who understood her needs and wants, someone who gave her a challenge and stood up to her, but only when she needed it. She wanted someone who she knew she could trust to watch her back without conscious thought. She wanted to give herself to her husband, and have him understand what a gift her love was, as opposed to a man who simply took it for granted.

But she could not have that. She would never have that. She was about to marry, yes, but most certainly not for love. The most she could see coming out of this relationship was a good friendship. That was, if she was lucky. She would have to provide her husband with an heir to his position, and she would be alone amongst a village of foreigners, except _she _would be the foreigner.

She supposed, with little mirth, that it was helpful she had known him for over half a year before. At least he was not a complete stranger. But, for all the time they spent together – now she thought about it, she really should have noticed her father's strange insistence she spend time with the man – they knew next to nothing about each other. If she remembered correctly, he had a brother.

She lost herself in thoughts, idly wondering if the rain was reflecting her mood. It certainly seemed like it.

Her posture suddenly wobbled, and she shook her head, closing the shoji with a slight click. She did not need to catch an illness on top of all the things going on at the moment. She took a deep breath, and walked back to the dressing table. The red velvet stool was already pulled out, and she carefully sat down, making sure not to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. If anything, the sight of herself dressed up in a formal wedding kimono would surely make it sink in. She smoothed out the front of her white kimono jacket, taking care not to crease it. She would receive a lot of flak from her aunt if she even had a thread of material out of line.

She looked to the table, and saw a small seal inked onto a piece of paper sitting there innocently, around the size of the palm of her hand. She almost glared at it. She knew what that seal was for.

It was a seal the Uzumaki used on its members, so that when they married, they would remain faithful to their partners, and vice versa. It wasn't often used, but it was almost compulsory in arranged marriages, and even if it made her feel uncomfortable, she could not help but embrace the smallest amount of peace it gave her. At least she knew her soon-to-be husband would not try to seek comfort elsewhere. If anything, she knew how valuable a loyal husband was, even if it was forced. She knew, herself, that she would never feel comfortable having an affair. The guilt would eat her up inside, as she considered herself a trustworthy person. Even if the seal was not being applied, she would still have remained celibate to anyone but her husband.

She knew it was placed on the inside of her left arm, and only hoped it would fade. She would hate to walk around for the rest of her life with what looked to be a tattoo on her arm.

A tap on the paper door to her room alerted her, and she felt the sudden ignition of nerves that appeared in her stomach. It felt like someone had done a fire technique within her, and she felt her hands begin to shake. God, the time alone had done nothing for her nervousness. She cursed under her breath as another wave of anxiety coursed through her, making her feel like she had to get away, _now_. But she knew she couldn't, as her clansmen would simply find her, bring her back and perform the ceremony anyway. And she would never run away. That was the route for cowards. She was no coward.

There was a tap again, and she sighed. "Come in, Mika."

The door slid open, and a slim, modestly dressed woman slipped in, her eyes immediately focussing on the redheaded bride-to-be. She stifled a gasp, but Mito's face fell anyway.

She was wearing a formal, dark grey kimono with a crimson red obi that matched the colour of the Uzumaki clan's hair. She was rather tall, and her hair was rolled up in a single bun. She looked rather shell-shocked.

"M-Mito! I didn't… well I don't think I had fully grasped what was happening until now." Her sentence had started off at full volume and slowly depleted into a whisper. Her face immediately melted into sympathy, and Mito was hard pressed not to cry. Her make-up would run.

"Yeah. You and me both, Mika." She sighed and closed her eyes, attempting to find her inner calm that she really needed right now.

"Have you seen yourself?" Mika's question was whispered, and Mito automatically whispered back.

"No. I don't really want to." She hesitated. "I'm afraid of what I'll see."

Mika's face crumpled, and Mito almost rolled her eyes in frustration. She didn't need this right now – she didn't want to have to stop Mika's tears as well as her own.

"Don't go all weepy on me, Mika. I can't deal with that right now."

Mika sniffed loudly and nodded. They were both silent, before Mika walked across the wooden floor to sit in the space left on the stool. She took Mito's hand and squeezed gently. A few more minutes of quietly stewing before Mika spoke once more.

"I think you should look in the mirror."

Mito turned her head to her best friend and frowned. "No, I shouldn't."

Mika gave her a wane smile. "Yes, you should. I think it's the only way you'll actually realise what you are about to do."

Mito's face suddenly became vulnerable, and her eyes widened. "But I don't want to." She stared at the floor.

"You have to. I can't willingly let you do this when you don't even know what you're doing." She glanced at Mito. "Get up. Come on; up."

She stood up, and pulled on the hand she held. After a few more experimental pulls, Mito finally gave up and allowed herself to be heaved up. She let go and patted down the kimono.

Mika went over to the other side of the room, and beckoned Mito over. The woman walked over slowly, and halted just before the large structure with the glided gold frame. It was embossed with the Uzumaki clan swirl, and was thankfully one of the possessions she was allowed to take with her. It had been her mother's, but at this precise moment, she hated the perfectly crafted mirror. She took many deep breaths, but the panic seemed to just keep mounting. She couldn't do it. She couldn't look in it and see the solid evidence that very soon she would no longer be a free woman.

Mika saw her refusal and denial, and decided drastic action had to be taken. She strode up to her almost hyperventilating best friend, and grabbing her long, wide sleeve, pulled harshly. Mito stumbled forward, before righting herself. She was about to unleash her temper and frustrations on her friend, but her eyes caught something in front of her. She looked up, and immediately straightened her back, and covering her mouth with her hands.

It… no. No! It wasn't her!

She saw the foreign and unknown figure in the glass shaking their head, and realised that she was doing it too. She stopped, as did the figure.

"No…" She moaned, her hands still covering her mouth. She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder, but didn't acknowledge it. The figure in the mirror was, well, she was beautiful. Like a goddess. She had blood red hair held up in two red buns on the side of her head, with crisp, bold sealing tags hanging from them. A magnificent, golden crown sat between them, shining in light reflected. The kimono… well. The under kimono was black, and flowed gracefully all the way down to her mid calves. The outer kimono was pure white, and the sleeves were wide and hung down to the ground. She wore traditional geta, and the socks were just as white as the kimono. A wide hood hung from the back of the kimono. Her skin was powdered white, and black kohl lined her eyes, making the blue colour seem icy. The whole ensemble seemed so out of place and strange that she felt as if she had lost herself. She had lost the warrior princess and had become this weak, complacent, _thing_.

It felt like she had died, and no one had noticed.

**XxXxXxX**

Nearly ten minutes later, and still she stood at the mirror, now calm. She had, after she had finished freaking out, suddenly frozen. It was like she had become encased in ice, but the ice was nurturing a flame, one becoming stronger by the second, feeding on all the frustration, rejection and sheer rage she was feeling. It became hotter and hotter, but now, instead of melting the ice, was strengthening it, making it better so when the time came, Mito would be ready for what was about to happen. The ice had become her protector, her buffer from the outside world, protecting the flame that was her true self. All of her feelings – – had become the flame, the fire burning deep inside her. One that she would make sure would never go out. It would be the eternal burning flames of Ameterasu, never ending.

She would never lose herself, no matter what. She would not allow it.

She straightened her back, and an emotionless mask settled on her face. Mika watched the change in her friend, and had mixed emotions. On one hand, she mourned for the loss of the friend she loved most; dear, the bubbly, excitable, albeit naïve girl that had just matured into the calm collected and _cold_ woman that stood before her. On the other hand, she was relieved Mito would not be lost to her fate, and become an empty, bitter old hag who thrived on negativity. But, she wasn't sure which one would have been better.

Another tap on the door alerted to two women, and they both turned expectantly to the door. It opened, and in came an old woman. She scanned over Mito, her critical eye roving for imperfection, but seemed pleased when she found none.

"Shall we depart, princess?" It wasn't a suggestion, but the inner Mito did not focus on that part. She focussed on the fact that even if her mentor was a withered old crone that enjoyed to berate, she still thought of her as her princess. Even if Mito was about to lose that status, and that the woman really should not have called her that in light of the events about to take place, she had, and that touched her.

But the outer Mito did nothing to betray such thoughts, and nodded obediently.

The woman beckoned with her hand, and Mito, after one last glance at Mika, followed. Mika watched as her friend was lead out of the door, and shook her head. She had known Mito since they had been born, and she, better than anyone else, could see the fear and nervousness buried within her friend's eyes. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, she couldn't hide it from her best friend. She took a breath, and left.

**XxXxXxX**

Mito followed the old woman through the oddly empty corridors, towards the anteroom of the courtyard. It was attached onto the side of it within the house, and was where the bride was to enter the courtyard from. She was keenly aware of the nervousness she felt, and ruthlessly squashed on the ones that claimed she was nervous about whether he would like her or not. Ridiculous! It didn't matter if he loathed her or worshipped the ground she walked on – there was no getting out of this. He would have to take what he got. Simple as that.

She was also aware of the fact her father would be waiting in the room, and prepared herself for the inevitable confrontation. For she wasn't sure if she could hold her temper in check, even with the newly changed state of her mind. He had cast her aside, and at the first opportunity, had managed to arrange a way to be rid of her. Her brother would now become clan head, and no doubt that was his plan all along. Even now, after three hundred recorded years, women were still not receiving the equality with men they deserved.

But as the shoji was slid open, and she was ushered in, everything, absolutely everything crashed down upon her, and she almost screamed. She felt so claustrophobic, and helpless. So frustrated at the unfairness and injustice of it all. Her life, her very own, was to be controlled by her father. She felt like one of those marionettes that shinobi clans from the Land of Wind fought with, a mere tool to be used and discarded at the whim of the user. She was trapped, with no way out bar death – a level she would _not _stoop to – and there was nothing she could do. Her inability to act almost caused her carefully composed mask to fall, but apart from a slight waver, it remained strong.

In front of her stood her father. He was wearing a traditional kimono, with his usual ceremonial armour on top. He was still an imposing figure, with the faintest hints of red still at his roots, while silver dominated the rest of his hair. His beard was down to mid-chest, and his face was worn with age and his lifestyle. He had a rather stern look on his face as he scanned over the daughter he was about to give away.

"Mito. You are ready." It was really more of an expectation than a question.

She gave a single nod.

He hesitated. "I am proud of you, my daughter, for doing this." He waited for a few seconds, but when she didn't react, he felt as if he might have to accept his sister's words. That he had lost his daughter because of his actions.

They stood rather awkwardly within the room, Mito's mentor behind her. Neither moved, but the atmosphere was like gasoline. As soon as a spark was ignited, an explosion would occur. Both seemed to recognise that.

Mito was attempting to compose herself, knowing that just outside that door; around one hundred people would be there, watching her. As would he. Her… fiancé. There she said it. She would never consciously accept it, but every time she thought about it, it was becoming easier and easier.

Whether that was reassuring or troubling, she wasn't sure.

She shifted slightly, in an attempt to allow the blood to flow through the veins in her feet, and felt her chest tighten almost unbearably. It… hurt. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, and she could hardly breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

Nothing seemed to alleviate the difficulty to breathe, and she vaguely wondered what the noise was until she just knew. It was her. She was hyperventilating.

She felt a slight tingling feeling in her mouth and along her jaw, and her stomach churned. She watched as the room spun, and she clapped her hand over her mouth as she struggled to save herself from throwing up. Oh God.

She felt three hands on her back, but dismissed them in her battle to compose herself. She felt so… ill. This was so wrong. This wasn't meant to happen! She wasn't… this wasn't…

A slight movement in front of her, and she couldn't hold it in.

Arashi watched as his only daughter threw up her breakfast into the bowl Kimi put in front of her. The old woman always had been sharp. The younger woman – no, _girl _– didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, but he kept rubbing a comforting hand over her shoulders, as Kimi held her with both to save her from collapsing. He, for the thousandth time, could not help but think he had made the wrong decision. He was losing his little girl – and he had done it willingly.

Mito finally managed to stop emptying her stomach, and she could only pray nothing had gotten on her kimono. She felt two hands gently guide her up, and she opened her eyes, the tears dried up. She felt, empty. Not in a totally bad way – in fact, it felt rather relieving. She thought about her situation experimentally, but her emotions felt far away, and she did not react.

Hmmm… she felt numb. It seemed to lift a weight off of her shoulders, and even if all her problems hadn't magically solved themselves, she felt as if they were less important that she had been worrying.

She felt a cloth covered hand pat her mouth and slip something that tasted like mint into it. The little object dissolved on her tongue, and immediately her stomach settled. She was helped up, and she turned her head, noticing it was her mentor. She lent into the woman for a few minutes, before pushing herself to balance herself. Only now did she notice the warm hand on her shoulder, and with an absentminded frown, she shook it off. No. She would not acknowledge him. This was his fault.

She flexed her fingers a few times, and linked them once more in front of her. She straightened her back – that was all she seemed to do at the moment, become more and more like someone she was not – and stared straight ahead.

This was the end, the end of her.

She gave a small, thankful nod to her mentor, who nodded back, and took a deep, silent breath. A small tap on the door told her of her impending doom. She felt a small pat of comfort on her elbow, before the old woman slipped out the shoji. She was left alone with her father.

He turned to her, knowing it was now or never.

"I am sorry, my daughter. Know I am deeply sorry. But it's time to go."

Mito looked at him suddenly, and her eyes locked on his. He gestured to her, and she took her arm, as was custom. They were about to go out into the unknown, and Mito was desperate to hide her negative feelings. She would _not _dishonour herself by acting like some sorry princess in fairytales who ran away to be with their 'true love'. Fairytales were just that – fantasy – and had no place in real life other than to amuse children and enhance their imagination. She was not in a story, she was in reality; and in reality life wasn't magical. Life wasn't mystical and full of wonder. Life was hard, and sometimes, not even worth it. But one only got one shot at it, so whatever hand one was dealt in life, one had to make do with it. Birth, some form of living, death. That was the cycle, and there was nothing more to it.

She was a princess, about to be married off for no reason she had been informed of, and no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she felt like ending it all, it was happening.

And she couldn't do anything about it.

The shoji doors began to open as her father turned her around to face the correct direction. Just before the people on the other side saw her, and her life began its rapid descent, she whispered.

"I'll never forgive you."

_**Sometimes, the best stories have to begin with a ending. **_**–Unknown**

**What can I say? That quote is one of my favourites, and I couldn't help toying with this idea and expanding it. As we all know, the story of Mito and Hashirama does indeed seem like a fairytale, but I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't all smiles and love. **

**After all, canon Naruto sort-of mirrors modern day, therefore Mito and Hashirama's time would be around the 1910s, 1920s. Families 'encouraging' marriages back then was very common – I simply enhanced that here. **

**She had never had an opportunity to get to know him – they were acquaintances – and suddenly she was about to be his wife, and divorce wasn't a option. She was losing herself, and had no idea how to continue. And no, it is impossible to fall for someone upon meeting them. I absolutely detest the idea of 'love at first sight' in reality. It isn't possible to love someone you don't know. That's simply attraction. Therefore, she weighed the pros and cons like an adult – it is her future, after all. **

**I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**xx**


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